


Beneath Me

by shamelessnameless



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Memory Charms, Past Sexual Abuse, do dark wizards deserve love, love in times of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:04:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19013479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessnameless/pseuds/shamelessnameless
Summary: Love is not something Lucius is supposed to feel but he's always been a fool.A story of how Severus and Lucius try to keep each other safe without admitting it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Chrissy Teigen for pointing out that it's not Lucius' but Lucius's (https://twitter.com/chrissyteigen/status/1132735587520110593)
> 
> This work mentions (non-explicit) sexual abuse in childhood, features a non-explicit rape scene.

Lucius hasn’t loved him at Hogwarts. Love came later; he is a lot of things, but a child molester is not one of them.

 

Love is a strange word for him. It doesn’t come to him easily. When he grew up, he knew of duty, of honour, of protecting his wealth and name, but he knew little of love. Even now, he doesn’t think of love all that much, doesn’t apply it to Narcissa and only a little to Draco.

 

Severus is the only exception to many of the rules he lives by.

 

—

 

Severus, too, does not talk of love.

 

Lucius has had his suspicions over the years. It’s difficult not to when Severus flinches away from him from time to time. He has learned the hard way to not embrace him from behind, to not choke him during sex. They only do it with the lights on; Severus does not deal well with not being able to see Lucius for a longer period of time. He both craves and distastes direction; if Lucius tells him to ride him harder, his eyes will glaze over if Lucius is not careful with his words. Lucius hates that, the faraway look, how Severus turns away from him after, how all Lucius can do is hold him and pretend he doesn’t feel the shivering.

 

He’s never asked.

 

There are things he has no words for and this is one of them. His father was more than strict with him, did never shy away from using corporeal punishment. He forced his will on Lucius again and again and Lucius bore it, did not falter under it, kept holding his head up high. But to have done to oneself what he believes was done to Severus; in a way, he doesn’t want to know.

 

—

 

Severus has always been uncomfortable with Lucius’ wealth, with his standing in the Wizarding Community. Lucius has no qualms about it, knows that even if he wasn’t married to Narcissa, even if homosexuality was accepted, Severus would have never accepted marriage. He has asked, once. Just after Draco was born and when Lucius wanted a way out so badly, he was ready to do anything for it, he asked, told Severus to marry him and get away from it all.

 

Severus didn’t look at him, looked down at the floor, shook his head mutely. A few short weeks later, their Lord vanished, and they never talked about it again.

 

—

 

They usually don’t see each other much.

 

It’s easier this way, for Lucius. If he sees him too often, the longing gets too much. The what ifs of his life haunt him, and they haunt him the most when Severus smiles that indulgent little smile he has for Lucius’s extravagancies, when he can’t help but laugh at one of Lucius’s jokes. He’s so serious, all the time and Lucius gets too caught up in wanting to relax him when he sees him too often, will think of jokes to make for days and days.

 

When they see each other, it’s half at Hogwarts, half at the Manor, at Severus’s cabin in the summer. Narcissa doesn’t bother herself with Lucius’s private affairs. Their peace is more easily disturbed at Hogwarts, but in the deep blackness of the light, Lucius buries himself in Severus and presses his I love you’s against his skin.

 

He never says them, anyway.

 

—

 

What he does instead is talk about him.

 

He sings Severus’s praises wherever he can, whenever he can. There are not many people he speaks with regularly at the Ministry who have not heard him talk about Severus.

 

He’s not entirely sure why he does it, why he cannot stop. It’s almost an inherent need for him, to talk about Severus, to praise him to people in power.

 

Sometimes, he wonders if it’s build-up for worse days; sometimes he worries if the talk that’s coming from him will not in the long run implicate Severus in ways Lucius never wants to implicate him.

 

\--

 

He knows that he’s been Severus first; first willingly chosen and the only one too.

 

Severus is steadfast in a way not many people are, but Lucius has no doubt that if he was – more confident in himself, he would have sought pleasure elsewhere. Lucius knows he’s not that – interesting. Loveable. He’s vicious and in a bad mood too often and snarky and too preoccupied with his name, his family history, the many acquaintances he has to entertain. Severus pursues other, less wordly things, is more interested in acquiring knowledge, in going paths nobody has trot before.

 

Would Severus still entertain him regularly if by now they both didn’t know enough to incarcerate the other? It keeps Lucius up at night, wondering if for Severus knowing Lucius is a burden or a joy.

 

\--

 

Not seeing Severus too often holds high the illusion that Lucius is not head over heels over him.

 

He can keep telling himself that seeing Severus is a convenience. They both crave sexual contact with men and there are not many gay Wizards to start with, even less that Lucius or Severus could trust to keep their silence. Severus might have it a little easier, because money would be less of an inclination for any other gay Wizards, but Lucius has little illusion that it would still be hard.

 

He’s had sex with gay Muggles before. It’s one of the things he hasn’t told anyone, ever. Back when he was out of Hogwarts, freshly married, freshly part of their Lord’s political campaign, he would entertain a flat in London and sometimes, deep in the night, he would go out to the clubs, to the dancing and drinking. He covered his tracks well with poly-juice, with obliviate, and he would ignore the guilt and panic building in his stomach while he fucked one of them, would try to focus on the pleasure it gave him. He fucked one once, a guy who still lived with his mother and he made the mistake of falling asleep right after. He met the mother in the morning and she was smiling at him, not embarrassed at all, congratulated her son for the handsome find and Lucius didn’t go out for weeks after that, heart thrumming with the knowledge that out there – in the _Muggle_ world – where people who loved their children no matter their abnormalities.

 

He never asked Severus about it, even though Severus is half Muggle, even though Severus would probably know whether it was an isolated incident or normalcy.

 

\--

 

What’s normal anyway, Lucius thinks sometimes, when Severus makes haste to get dressed after bathing together, after laying together. He has time and time again said how much he’s into Severus and it’s not a lie; he’s _so_ into him it hurts somewhere deep in his chest.

 

Severus never wants to hear it, prefers to lock himself away, not only his heart and soul, but his body, too. It took Lucius ages to understand, given that there’s nothing to be ashamed of, that Severus is perfectly normal.

 

It only makes sense when he adds Severus’ obvious shame about liking sex and the scars.

 

He doesn’t think there’s any reason at all for Severus to be ashamed of either his body or his experiences but saying it and getting Severus to stop are two very different things.

 

—

 

Sometimes, at night, Lucius lays awake and despairs about the Mark on his arm.

 

Their Lord is not gone. Lucius knows it, deep down, from the place his magic flows.

 

He needs to protect Draco. He needs to protect Severus, who he knows will play a very dangerous game once their Lord returns and just thinking it makes his heart beat faster. Severus knows he knows; by all laws, Lucius should kill him for it.

 

But there’s a secret no one knows; that Lucius follows him above all, no matter what.

 

—

 

Neither Lucius nor Severus like to be vulnerable, like to relay on other people. Severus is even worse than him, Lucius sometimes thinks, when he’s so obviously aching, so obviously in pain and in need of solace, of comfort. He’s especially snarky then, quick to anger and lash out, his words like weapons.

 

When Severus was 22, Lucius took him to a healer despite all his protests. Every month, for a few days, Severus would be in debilitating pain from his ass and lower stomach and Lucius worried about it, had read enough about long-term effects of childhood sexual abuse by now to worry that something more serious was wrong.  

 

They repaired much of the scaring in Severus’ anus. One healer told Severus confidently that anal sex would feel completely new to him and Lucius watched Severus’s face close-off, close-down.

 

Severus didn’t speak with him for seven months after that.

 

—

 

You’re safe, Lucius says to him, every night they get to sleep together.

 

Severus’s sleep is never fitful; he turns and moans and cries in his sleep, makes himself small, whimpers and says _please_ and _stop_ and _it hurts_.

 

You’re safe, Lucius will whisper in the night. He loosely holds him; never holds him down because he knows what it does to Severus, but he won’t take his hands away either, has found out over the years that talking softly and touching him gently will get him to calm more than anything else.

 

He never wakes Severus. He knows that Severus does not remember the nightmares in the morning and Lucius will never tell him, ever. If he does, he won’t be allowed to sleep over and Lucius - needs to. He needs Severus safe.

 

—

 

If the others knew about them, they would kill them.

 

Lucius has no doubts how they would do it; slowly, painfully. They would take them again and again, fuck their asses and their mouths, hold them down, choke them on their dicks. Whenever Lucius thinks about it, he gets sick, knowing without a doubt that Severus could not survive it again, knows that Severus is infinitely vulnerable about anything sexual. It would not take much to reduce Severus to a blubbering mess of tears and Lucius knows they would make him watch, possibly make him do it even.

 

That knowledge has probably kept them from pursuing anything more overtly – open.

 

It’s his worst nightmare – that one of them would find out, tell their Lord. Their Lord likes a little sexual punishment, retains it for the worst crimes against his person.

 

Nothing breaks a man quite like being fucked against his will by another.

 

Their Lord liked to do it himself, from time to time. He also liked Lucius or Abraxas to do it; Lucius is sure that it has to do with the fact that their Lord likes to see him or his father fuck. Abraxas was just as big, just as bodily powerful as Lucius is now.

 

He’s read a book or two, or maybe three, or maybe a whole library on internalized homophobia, on hegemonic masculinity, on othering, on stereotyping.

 

They are all so fucked up that it would be funny if this wasn’t his life.

 

—

 

The interwar years are good years for Lucius. His heir grows. His wealth increases. His position at the ministry is secure. His father is finally dead.

 

The love of his life opens up to him, little by little. They spent a few quite weeks at Severus’s cabin in the summers, working on potions, reading together. Severus does not allow Lucius to take him to a somewhat more luxurious holiday, just as he never wants Lucius to pay for anything, to give him anything.

 

At night, they sometimes look up at the stars with only their elbows touching. It’s during one of these summers that Severus allows him for the first time to lick and taste him, to make him come from his mouth alone. Before, he’s been ashamed of how much he liked it to have his ass licked, how crazy he got over it and it’s such a turn-on to be finally allowed to do it that Lucius comes with him, without touching himself even once.

 

They live on borrowed time and Lucius never wants it to end.

 

—

 

The first time Severus showed himself to Lucius, he stood there defiantly, head held high. Then Lucius reached out and gently ran a hand over his skinny, hairy chest and Severus shuddered at the touch, clenched his eyes shut.

 

He looked ashamed when he opened them again.

 

Lucius knew they were in dangerous territory even if he didn’t understand why. Sure, Severus looked – scared out of his mind, but Lucius had gotten to know many scary things and he was not a man easily bothered by them.

 

What do you like, he had asked and Severus had turned away from him, saying I don’t know in a voice that had made Lucius ache for him.

 

—

 

It’s not that Severus doesn’t love him.

 

It’s that Severus thinks so little of himself.

 

He doesn’t believe he deserves happiness. He hates the thought. For everything good that happens to him, three bad things must surely happen afterwards.  

 

He trusts no one, is always quick to suspect an attack on himself. He’s not allowing anyone to get to know him too; Lucius has done nothing but study him when he showed up in their ranks at 18 and he’s sometimes still not sure what to make of Severus’s brooding, his silences, his deep, dark eyes.

 

\--

 

Lucius knew he needed to be careful even before they tried having sex for the first time. He built up to it slowly because it was very much something he wanted to do with Severus at one point, but he didn’t hurry it. Instead, he courted.

 

Severus knew without doubt what he was doing but never commented on it and it allowed Lucius to go on, bestow little gifts on Severus that had only sentimental value, never any real net worth because Severus wouldn’t have tolerated it. They never went out to dinner somewhere, but Lucius invited the best cooks to the Manor, danced to music with Severus with no one watching, kissed him hot and slow and sweet, kissed him sober and wine drunk, whispered filthy things and flirty things until Severus shoved him down on a chair one day and ripped open his shirt.

 

You drive me crazy, he said, eyes wide and terrified and Lucius let his hands wander, slow and sure.

 

Not my hole, Severus said, don’t touch it, I – please don’t and Lucius didn’t; there were enough other places to touch and kiss.

 

You’re beautiful, he said while the sweat was drying on their bodies.

 

Liar, Severus said without opening his eyes and in a way, he was right. Severus was not much to look at, too skinny and bony, too hairy and pale, too unkempt and stuck-up and yet, he was Severus and just for that, he was everything.

 

—

 

I need you safe, Lucius said just before Severus’ first raid. Severus’ eyes were very dark in the moonlight.

 

They killed three Muggle-borns that time. Back at the Manor, Severus would shower for an hour and Lucius would pretend to not hear him sob.

 

He would talk about stomaching violence, in the coming weeks. They had not yet fucked but Lucius knew he wanted to, more than anything. He wanted them to fuck and for it to mean something.

 

He took Severus under his wing because he had no choice; he was done in for when their Lord showed up with Severus in 1978, when Severus gave him a quick, shy smile. There was nothing to be done to change it; it just was. It had been that way at Hogwarts too; Severus craved Lucius’ acceptance and protection there and Lucius gave it, because he saw – something. He had no thoughts at all for what Severus would mean to him one day back at Hogwarts but there was something, a little spark, a little fizzle. Maybe it was the way how Severus held himself so proudly, how little he gave of himself. Maybe it was the way he trusted Lucius to know that he didn’t look forward to the holidays and how Lucius would regret that he wasn’t allowed to invite him to the Manor. 

 

Maybe they saw each other and found shared misery, the same downtrodden, ruddy hope that life would be different once they grew up.

 

Maybe Lucius read too many books on gay rights in the Muggle world; maybe he hoped too much that there was only ever a way forward, not backwards, that with time attitudes and norms would change.

 

He knows now how hope is a dangerous thing, how it can twist and poison a whole life.

 

They won’t get more than they have, and it should be enough and yet, it just can’t be enough, never enough.

 

—

 

It used to bother him, how much more powerful Severus is than him, how much deeper his knowledge of potions runs. A Muggle father and yet he had outperformed Lucius in every test, easily beat him at everything he set out to do.

 

It used to bother him sorely on the grounds that if his father was right, if their Lord was right, Severus should not have been able to do it.

 

He reconciled it eventually; what he had grown up to believe to be truth and how the truth was disproved before his eyes time and time again.

 

He’s never told Severus, knows it would hurt him. Severus doesn’t like to be reminded of his father and Lucius has a horrible, aching, gaping suspicion why.

 

\--

 

Lucius knows who Severus serves. He was never told, but he knows. He wishes he wouldn’t.

 

Sometimes, late at night, he’s awake at Hogwarts. He can enter the castle because Severus invites him in; but he has doubts he could leave Severus’s quarters.

 

He’s never tried. He would be hurt if he couldn’t leave, hurt that in this Severus doesn’t trust him. He would be furious if he could, furious because it would be unsafe for Severus to allow him to wander the halls.

 

If he could leave Severus’s quarters, he could take his wand and go up the stairs. Dumbledore would never hide from a fight, but Lucius would break into his office instead, kill him in his sleep, like the coward he is.

 

It would free him of the horrible suspicion that one day their Lord will find out and that Severus won’t survive it.

 

—

 

He could of course defect.

 

Dumbledore would be amiss not to give him shelter given the massive knowledge he has of the inner workings of the Death Eaters.

 

Yes, Lucius detests Muggles and Muggle-borns, but what does he care about them if the only person that means something to him gets killed in this stupid war, in this stupid bid for power.

 

—

 

After Lily Potter died, Severus threw up from crying so much.

 

Lucius wiped his neck and mouth with a wet cloth, not saying a word and Severus would cry and cry and cry as if _his_ life had ended.

 

Lucius tried to turn him around and kiss him when he was done, and Severus pushed him away, asked him to leave him alone, to please leave him be, even though it was him that had come for Lucius, out of his mind. It had been a hectic night with Death Eaters fleeing, calling on Lucius, overrunning the Manor, yet when Lucius had seen Severus, he had stopped caring, just like that, as if his political engagement of the last years was nothing and, in a way, it was; Lucius didn’t yet admit it to himself, but Severus came first, always, no matter what, if only under the condition that he could never know.

 

Lucius didn’t, hauled him in instead, braved another round of tears. I’ve got you, he said, and Severus cried harder, crawled on his lap. Lucius wrapped his robe around them both and kissed his brow and ear and eyelids and in the morning, Severus refused to look at him, left the Manor quietly and Lucius knew he would never return a faithful servant again.

 

\--

 

He’s obsessed with making sex good for Severus, obsessed in a way that sometimes makes him wonder if that’s still healthy.

 

Severus doesn’t trust his own body; all pleasure he takes from it has to be wrung from it, won from it. He’s always reluctant to try new things; if he has a hard orgasm, he’s ashamed after. Lucius knows he never touches himself.

 

Lucius takes pride in knowing Severus’s body better than anyone. He alone knows how to move, what to do, to make Severus enjoy it, open up to him, go with the flow. He alone knows about the moans he can draw from Severus when he sucks his cock and he revels in them, draws it out and out and out, until Severus is a trashing, heaving mess, until it’s so good that Severus forgets how much he hates the way he looks, how uncomfortable he can be about sex.

 

It’s a contradiction that Lucius has at times problems understanding: how to hate something so much yet yearn for it just as much at the same time. He makes it his job to tip the scale in favour of yearning, but there are days when it’s just not working, when he eases off, pretends to not have wanted sex in the first place. He hopes he never gets it wrong, because Severus refuses to acknowledge it in the first place and so Lucius needs to trust himself to know on which days Severus just can’t stand it. Severus never says no to it; Lucius doesn’t want to think about the reasons for that too deeply, studies his body language, his face instead.

 

Can you not talk to me, he once pleaded, years ago, when he was younger and more often overwhelmed with how difficult sex was with Severus. Severus had withdrawn at his words, bottom lip quivering just a little.

 

I excuse my inadequacy, he had answered; it was the only thing he had ever said about it and Lucius had waited a long moment, before sitting at his feet, leaning his head against Severus’ bony knees. They hadn’t talked about anything else that night, just sat like that, for hours.  

 

You’re insatiable, Severus says on the good days, and Lucius never corrects him, pretends that this is about him, knows that Severus cannot give himself at all when he finds out it’s all about him, for him, always him.

 

\--

 

He wishes sometimes that Severus could do the same for him.

 

He wishes Severus would top him sometime, but Severus freezes up when he’s supposed to take the initiative, gets overwhelmed when he’s the one who’s supposed to do the work.

  
I am sorry, he had said when they had tried it for the last time, and his voice had sounded like a dying little thing. I am sorry, he had said, I know it’s not adequate, I understand if you want to end it, I –

 

Don’t be silly, Lucius had said and hadn’t cared how soothing, how gentle his voice sounded. He had sat down beside Severus carefully, stroked over his tense shoulders, waited until Severus’s head had sunk down on his own shoulder. You’re okay, he had said and then didn’t comment on how Severus shuddered at that.

 

\--

 

It’s a fucking stray curse that has Severus doubled over, a few weeks before the mess at the Ministry.

 

Lucius is at Severus’s side in an instance; he’s been watching out for this ever since they went to their first raid together.

 

He knows within a second that it’s a sex curse, one that makes Severus care about nothing but a cock in his ass, in his mouth.

 

Greyback makes a lewd comment while Lucius restrains Severus’s hands from exposing himself. He wishes Severus away, far from here, somewhere where he can pick up the pieces afterwards, but he can’t do that, cannot take Severus away from the scene without causing suspicion. It’s not the first time one of them is hit with a lust curse and Lucius understands, in a way, that it must be ironic and funny to do that to one of them, knowing who they are. During the first war, it made him furious and their revenge was all the more vicious for it; now, Lucius is not as willing, has more problems stomaching the violence, the hate. What am I even doing here, he asks himself more and more often and has no answers.

 

Severus will hate himself for what the curse will make him do, for the noises, the begging. Only a few times he begged Lucius to go harder, to go deeper – and Lucius has seen the aftermath, the deep cuts in Severus’s arms, that Lucius cleaned without a word, even though he wanted to scream, that he gently and carefully knit back together. He thanked Severus for showing them to him in the first place and Severus flushed scarlet, tried to take his arm back, but Lucius, prepared for it, didn’t let him, said, relax, instead, didn’t attach the endearment he wanted to say.

 

He turns Severus behind him, walks him away. He doesn’t undress him, sticks his trousers to his belly with his wand; he wants Severus as protected from their eyes as he can.

 

They all watch Lucius fuck him, give it to him hard. Severus begs, and Lucius abruptly spells him mute when he’s hit with the possibility of Severus begging to be fucked in his ass hole, in his mouth hole. Lucius does not like it when he refers to his body parts like that, is very sure that these words come from the person who has forced himself on Severus. It’s as if Severus is nothing but holes when all Lucius has been trying to do is to keep all of him inside himself since seeing that skinny kid for the first time during the sorting ceremony.  

 

You’re taking away all of our fun, Greyback complains and Lucius sneers at him, keeps fucking Severus, ignores that they all jerk off to Lucius giving it to the most precious thing in his life while their Lord’s sign burns in the sky above him. He feels like crying. He feels like giving up.

 

It takes ages; Lucius doesn’t even have to try to stave off his own orgasm. He’s so turned-off by all of it, but he knows a spell or two to keep a dick hard; some of the more useful things his father taught him. Greyback asks more than once for his turn; so does Macnair and Lucius sneers at them, says, do I look as if I’m done? All he needs from Severus is an orgasm to have him back with him; nobody dares to toy with Severus if he’s his usual self. They are all scared and rightfully so, Lucius thinks, knowing how easily Severus can overpower them, kill them. Severus is a stronger wizard than any of them, second only to their Lord. Beatrice might have a shot, but Lucius will never allow her one, not ever.

 

All he needs from Severus is an orgasm, but he doesn’t want to reach around to help him, doesn’t want them to see more of Severus than they absolutely have to, knows that in their world fucking a guy is not gay, but touching another guy’s dick is. He can’t lean forward and whisper the praise, the love like he usually does, and without it Severus’s eyes are wide and terrified. He’s tried grabbing for Lucius’s hand for support and Lucius had to withdraw it from him, couldn’t offer it. He can’t turn him around and put him into missionary because he’s afraid to break the momentum, afraid that they will force themselves on Severus if he stops what he’s doing, if he gives them a minute to get involved, even though Severus twists around more and more often to look at him, eyes hazier with every minute that passes. He can’t even kiss him and it’s horrible; it’s the worst thing Lucius ever had to do.

 

As predicted, Severus is beyond himself after his orgasm. The others laugh and tease him when they tell the tale to their Lord and Severus sneers at them, haughty look perfect on his face.

 

Lucius, who knows he doesn’t have Severus’s game face, keeps looking down. He’s still flushed and sweaty, vastly uncomfortable. He needs a shower. He needs some sleep. He needs to ask Severus how he’s doing. He needs everything but not this debriefing.

 

When they leave, their Lord studies Lucius; the foreboding he feels – it’s not good.

 

\--

 

Severus refuses to talk about it.

  
You did what you had to do, he says but there’s an accusation in his level tone.

 

Would you have wanted one of the others to do it, Lucius asks. He’s viciously angry, yet horrifyingly interested in the answer too.

 

Severus deflates at the question, all at once, looks away from him.

 

I don’t want to talk about it, he says and sounds unbearably tired.

 

\--

 

After their Lord frees them from Azkaban, Lucius starts to wish he would put him back.

 

He doesn’t necessarily mind the falling out of favour, even though it’s stressful and harder to keep Draco safe.

 

What he minds are the memories of the Dementors, of his fellow captives, of the ocean and the rain and the cold. He almost wishes he was longer in that place, to go mad completely, to not have to live through the aftermath.

 

The day he’s back, he holds it together until Severus pushes him into a storeroom, urgently, needy, until Severus runs his hands over him, cups his scruffy cheeks and just looks at him, not saying anything.

 

Lucius puts his head on his shoulder and cries.

 

He can’t stop.

 

You’re okay, Severus says after a time, his hand at the nape of Lucius’ neck holding Lucius close and steady. You’re okay, he repeats quietly.

 

But Lucius is so – sad. Tired. He doesn’t want to sleep by himself tonight. He just wants a little break, a longer hug, wants to not be alone.

 

I am so sorry, Severus says very quietly just before he leaves anyway and Lucius nods, locks his room down as best as he can and tries not to care.

 

\--

 

In the next weeks, Severus keeps his distance, doesn’t reach out.

 

Lucius isn’t sure what’s wrong. Their Lord is clearly out for Lucius’ blood, clearly toying with him and it’s probably wise to not get caught up in it, to stand aside like the others do. It will remain Lucius’s secret how much he wishes Severus to swipe in and safe him before one day their Lord will break his mind, leave him bare.  

 

\--

 

He can say it now, admit it to himself. He wants a way out.

 

He won’t get it.

 

The least he can do then is to protect Severus and his son by becoming uncaring about their fates. Nothing will protect them better than their Lord knowing he cannot hurt them to hurt Lucius.

 

He tries to store it all away, all his memories of Severus, thinks them and locks each and every one up. He read about the spell, experimental still at best, about the witches and wizards going mad over their losses of memories, going mad about suddenly missing parts of themselves.

 

He’s not even sure he can reverse that spell.

 

He’s leaving himself just a few; a memory of Severus wrapping his arms around him on a sunny morning at his cabin, whispering good morning baby. That was the only time he ever gave him an endearment (and how embarrassed he was after it, not looking at Lucius for the whole day, hands not as steady as usual).

 

Another memory of simply reaching out to twist their fingers together while they watched a thunderstorm outside and the simply joy it brought Lucius, to get to be here in that moment with just that person.

 

The smell of Severus’s potion robes; fresh grass, myrrh and a faint whisk of mint.

 

A memory of thinking, fiercely, I love you, late at night, when Severus was safe in his arms, sleepily mumbling in his dreams against Lucius’s throat.

 

\--

 

Snape is looking at him and Lucius doesn’t understand why, is unnerved by it. The longer their meeting goes, the more intense Snape’s gaze gets.

 

Their Lord takes Lucius’s wand away and for a moment, Snape looks close to murder and something itches at the back of Lucius’s mind but then it’s gone.

 

Wandless, all he knows is fear. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

 

\--

 

What did you do to yourself, you moron, Snape asks. Lucius wants to bite back at him for talking like that, but he had three calming draughts and he’s somewhere, floating.

 

Lucius, Snape says, and he sounds as if he’s giving him a warning. Hands cup his face and tilt it up, study his eyes. Lucius closes them.

 

Besides the draughts, Severus hisses, what did you do? Answer me.

 

You smell like someone I used to know, Lucius says and keeps drifting. He thinks somebody tugs his blanket over him, spells the lights out, lights the fire, but he might be dreaming.

 

\--

 

Snape asks him to come to some cottage he owns, and Lucius goes, mostly to escape the Manor.

 

He could never sell it, but Merlin, he hates it now.

 

Snape makes him dip his fingers in more than one potion, studies the colour changes with a frown on his face.

 

Do not tell me you used renum obliviscature, Severus says and looks pained.

 

Lucius doesn’t know and so he doesn’t tell.

 

\--

 

Later, Severus will tell him how long it took to find a solution, how deep he had to dig, how much experimental magic he had to do.

 

Later, Lucius will burrow his head against Severus’s chest, will feel silly and chided and a bit ashamed of what he has done.

 

I didn’t know another way, he will say, and Severus will sigh and draw him back down, will continue hiding him, sheltering him. You’re safe now, he will say, and Lucius will sigh against his throat and press closer, always closer.

 

\--

 

It’s another raid and Lucius doesn’t step out of the curve the curse is taking, simply stands still and lets it hit him.

 

It’s not an Avada Kedavra but he wishes it was.

 

Snape flicks him back together, brows drawn down and angry. Lucius thinks he’s seen that face before, but it makes no sense; Snape never had to take care of him before.

 

You need to get control of yourself, Snape orders and Lucius sneers at him. Remember who you are talking to, he whispers. He’s not as powerful in their ranks as he used to be, but so far, it’s only their Lord who taunts him. The others are waiting, weighing their options. Nobody wants to overstep in case Lucius retains his favour.

 

Lucius wants them all to be done, to either win or lose. He doesn’t care anymore either way, he just wants it to – end.

 

These are very dangerous thoughts, Snape says nonetheless, eyes boring into Lucius’s own. I would advise against thinking them, he says and Lucius smiles, quietly amused. He probably should crucio him for reading his thoughts, but he somehow doesn’t quite care enough.

 

He knows he’s a dead man walking.  

 

\--

 

He’s missing pockets of time; moments of his life. He can’t remember any summers since their Lord vanished. It should make him go mad, but after Azkaban his mind has shut down already anyway; he finds himself not caring too much.  

 

He wonders if the missing memories were done to him or if he has done it to himself.

 

He wonders if he can ask Snape.

 

He’s always trusted Snape the most, if only for the fact that they are most evenly matched in both power and intellect.

 

He should not trust anyone but that’s just another lesson he somehow can’t learn.

 

\--

 

He’s never noticed before, but there’s something about Snape that is oddly attractive.

 

He muses on it, can’t put a finger on it.

 

It’s not a time for love, anyway.

 

\--

 

He wakes with a gasp. The nightmare is shadowy already, something about Azkaban, something about Snape behind a wall, unreachable.

 

Snape is still at the Manor, sitting up with their Lord and Bellatrix in Lucius’s salon. He quickly tries to step back but their Lord has seen him already, orders him in.

 

Snape barely glances at him, keeps talking. They’re talking about charm creation, magical theory; for once not about their joint mission or Harry Potter and Lucius lets their voices wash over him.

 

Snape’s voice calms him; he tries not to listen whenever their Lord or Bellatrix speak. His heartbeat slowly calms. His breathing gets a bit more even.

 

He’s so tired, so sad, so ashamed, so angry with everything. He has a strong, inexplicable urge to go over and put his head on Snape’s lap. If they were alone, he thinks Snape would gently card through his hair, rub his fingers over his eyes and temples and he can almost feel it, spidery-soft, almost as if it has happened before.

 

Do we bore you so much, Lucius, their Lord asks. For once, he doesn’t sound mad, sounds amused and Lucius blinks his eyes back open quickly. He knows how deadly their Lord’s good cheer can turn.

 

I’ve kept Lucius up last night discussing further inways to Dumbledore, possibly through the School Board, Snape says, so it’s me who must apologize, I think.

 

It’s a lie and Lucius wonders why it doesn’t feel wrong that Snape would lie for him.

 

\--

 

I have a proposal for you, Snape says a day later. He’s waited up on the staircase before descending down together for breakfast.

 

Do you, Lucius says and has to grip the barrister tight; since coming back his balance is out of whack.

 

Yes, Snape says, I’ve developed something for you. It’s experimental. If you are willing to try it, come see sometime this week.

 

Are you trying to insult me, Lucius says and tries not to grab Snape’s arm when he almost stumbles.

 

No, Snape says very quietly, just trying to not get you killed.

 

They stare at each other for a long moment. This, too, feels familiar. It’s what gets Lucius to say yes; the feeling that Snape is familiar.

 

Wednesday night, Lucius proposes, and Snape nods, vanishes quickly after.

 

\--

 

Snape serves him tea when he gets in. Lucius watches him tittle-tattle around his kitchen for a while; Snape seems oddly nervous and it’s very much unlike him.

 

Lucius wants to kiss him very much.

 

The potion should help with the aftereffects of Azkaban, Snape says without looking at him, I have tried to incorporate the healing benefits of a pacem auxilium with a traditional calming draught to -

 

I’ve been here before, Lucius muses, before the war. Haven’t I?

 

Snape turns around, eyes closed-off but Lucius can tell that he’s nervous.

 

Lucius, he warns but Lucius already walks forward, already leans down and kisses him, kisses him deep and hard like he wanted to since he came to visit.

 

He doesn’t know why but there’s something in him that is telling him that he needs this, needs Severus, can’t do this without him, will surely get killed if he doesn’t do this with him.

 

Severus yields beautifully to him. 

 

They are half undressed a short while later, when Severus intercepts Lucius’s hands from reaching for his pants.

 

You truly don’t remember, he asks and then he strips and Lucius stares at him, shakes his head.

  
Fuck me, Lucius says fifteen minutes later. Severus face closes off, smooths out until it’s his usual blank mask, before getting up, putting space between them.

 

Let us get back to the potion, he says and redresses swiftly, his moves very economical.

 

\--

 

The longer he takes Severus’s potion, the more he remembers.

 

Pacem auxilium, my ass, he thinks. Without doubt there’s a memory charm somewhere in that potion; without doubt Severus is trying to bring something back Lucius wanted to forget.

 

\--

 

Their Lord tortures Draco and Lucius finds himself not caring very much.

 

Their Lord never tortures Severus, but he sends him out to dangerous missions all the time and Lucius finds himself not caring very much.

 

Their Lord’s gaze on him turns very contemplative and Lucius finds himself very much caring about that.

 

\--

 

Their Lord invites Lucius for lunch one day and then proceeds to break down very barrier of his mind.

 

The attacks are ruthless. Lucius is a crumpled mess of snot and tears and vomit at his feet by the time it’s over. So many memories of what his father did to him, what their Lord did to him, what he did in their names. Memories of how long and how hard he fought his sexuality, how he was thinking about castrating himself, how much he hated himself for wanting something so abnormal so badly.

 

Their Lord spends much time trying to break into the memories that Lucius himself cannot access, but he doesn’t manage. Lucius can’t remember doing it, but he wants to thank his past self; has a very worried feeling of what they would find there.

 

What are you hiding from me, Lucius, their Lord says, almost fondly while Lucius heaves.

 

Strip, Lucius, their Lord orders and Lucius does, lets it be done to him without care. While their Lord pushes into him, Nagini travels over his body, wraps parts of herself around his neck and he almost throws up again from her heavy weight, the strength of her.

 

He’s not surprised that their Lord is not very interested in Lucius’ sexuality; he’s always been a bit above of the wonders of the flesh. When he’s done, he simply turns to leave, before stopping in the doorway.

 

I guess it is punishment enough to live with your debauchery, their Lord muses, to know how very depraved you are. A Malfoy liking it up his ass. Your father would be horrified.

 

Their Lord turns back around then, takes Lucius’ chin in his fingers, studies him.

 

From the proudest of our families, yet you are simply a fag, he says, and he seems almost happy – he’s always been happiest when someone with higher social standing is less worth than him. 

 

\--

 

It’s Severus who’s send in to clean him up.

 

Severus’s hands are very gentle on him, very careful. The first thing he does is banish the vomit; the second thing he does is to clean Lucius’s face from the tears and snot and cum.

 

Lucius starts crying then.

 

Shh, Severus says, don’t. Not here. Lucius, please, not here.

 

I want to go home, Lucius says, not knowing what he even means. He is, by all accounts, exactly at home, but there’s a memory of a smaller place with a warmer fire in his mind, strong arms holding and swaying him gently.

 

You need to be quiet, Severus says, be my good boy and be quiet now.

 

Severus, Lucius cries and Severus’s face does a pained little thing, before it smooths out. He reaches into the folds of his robe, forces a sleeping draught down Lucius’s throat, holding him until he’s out.

 

You’re okay, he whispers, and Lucius doesn’t tell him that he can’t wish things in existence that are not true.

 

\--

 

The pace of history picks up then; Lucius finds himself more and more often alone in the Manor, or in the company of Narcissa and Bellatrix. Their Lord is out doing things. Severus is out doing things.

 

He remembers enough by now to stop taking the potion. He can’t remember it all. He can’t risk – Severus has taken enough risks already. Their Lord might not try again, or he might try again to break into Lucius’s memories and he won’t risk it. His love is safest where no on, not even him, can know about it.

 

Greyback comes in one day and leers at Lucius and Lucius is thankful for the wand Severus brought him, grips it tight in his pocket. It’s not working perfectly for him, but it’s better than nothing, he thinks.

 

\--

 

It becomes a big fucking problem.

 

Lucius knows that this is karma; he has treated Greyback abhorrently and now that he can’t defend himself, has lost their Lord’s favour, it’s coming back to haunt him.

 

Greyback harasses him, assaults him, forces his tongue down this mouth. The more he takes from Lucius, the less Lucius seems to be able to defend himself. His arms and legs turn to lead when Greyback pushes close and he can’t – do anything, can’t defend himself. He’s so scared of doing anything now. Azkaban would be better than dealing with Greyback, he thinks and desperately tries to lock down his bedroom each night. 

 

You don’t look very well, Severus comments quietly when he comes in one day.

 

I am just fine, Lucius says from where he’s laying fully dressed on his bed. A moment later, the mattress dips. Severus’s hand is warm on his lower back.

 

Tell me, he says quietly.

 

Lucius turns around instead and kisses him.

 

It’s like a force of nature; it’s incredibly stupid and careless of them but there’s no way to stop it.

 

It’s hard and fast and intense and when Lucius comes he holds on to Severus’s for dear life.

 

Afterwards, they lay in silence, not touching.

 

Not disgusted by my inability to fuck you after all, then, Severus says lightly, but something tells Lucius that it’s not a light topic for him at all.

 

You’re beautiful, he says instead because he thought it for the last hour.

 

Severus huffs out a laugh and then actually laughs, turns over and kisses Lucius again.

 

We really need to get your memories back, he whispers and gathers his clothes, goes to use Lucius’s ensuite bathroom.

 

Greyback saunters in a moment later as if he owns the Manor, as if he owns Lucius. His eyes get very wide; Lucius’ gets instantly very cold.

 

You shameless bastard, Greyback says delightedly, playing here in broad daylight without me? His eyes are lust-blown, his cock already hard.

 

Lucius knows he can’t cry for help without giving Severus and what they just did away.

 

Greyback is on him in a moment, rips away the blanket, grinds himself against Lucius’s cock, takes him in his hand and jerks him roughly. Lucius doesn’t even try to defend himself; Severus can use the other exit and enter Lucius’ study, can enter the hallway from there and he’ll be safe, he’ll be –

 

You have two seconds, Severus says very lightly from Lucius’ bedroom door, before I will kill you, Greyback.

 

They’re lucky that Severus is very skilled at obliviate, too, even if he loses control a little bit, goes a little too far, if Greyback’s stupid grin or faraway eyes are an indicator.

 

He won’t come after you again, Severus says and strokes through Lucius’s hair, he won’t remember a thing at all. You’re okay, Lucius.

 

Lucius can’t mind.  

 

\--

  
Severus is angry with him afterwards, even though he doesn’t say why. Maybe he’s disgusted, thinks that Greyback and Lucius are an item after all, that Lucius wanted it. Maybe he’s disgusted by Lucius’ weakness; Lucius sure is. Maybe he blames Lucius for his own loss of control and Lucius can admit that it’s very unusual for Severus to be anything but in perfect control.

 

They almost, maybe, catch Potter. Then they don’t. Their Lord is displeased.

 

Most of the time, Lucius, officially wandless, sits at the window in his study and watches his park like an old man, tries to not think about anything.

 

Severus’s potion is in his pocket and he fingers it, holds it like a charm.

 

Then, they march. Their Lord announces it and spirits soar high; the atmosphere immediately gets that dangerous tinge to it, that Lucius once loved above all else and now hates more than anything.

 

Their Lord returns his wand carelessly and Lucius turns to get dressed.

 

Just outside of his private quarters, Severus steps out of the shadows and grabs his arm.

 

I can get you away from it, he says, right now. Let us go.

 

I don’t understand, Lucius says, confused.

  
Take my offer, Severus says urgently.

 

No, Lucius says. He doesn’t know why but there’s a certainty in him, as deep as anything he knows that he wants to be at Severus’s side tonight.

 

You can’t win, Severus says, goddamnit Lucius, take my offer. I am begging you. I can’t – I don’t want to see you dead.

 

A Muggle slur, Lucius whispers, I would be more careful with my words and turns to leave. Severus grabs him back.

 

Take my offer, Severus says again. He’s cupping Lucius’s face now; he kissed him just a second ago, long and deep, intense in a way that Lucius finds unexpected.

 

He’ll know it’s you, he says and then gives in, lets his head drop on Severus’s shoulder. He hasn’t shaved. He feels so old.

 

Severus draws him in, solid and sure, hugs him close.

 

That’s for me to worry about, he says, I’m begging you. Take my offer.  

 

Lucius shakes his head; someone is approaching them, and they step apart.

 

In his room, he downs all of Severus’s potion at once; Severus explicitly told him not to, but he thinks Severus has always been too cautious.

 

The memories – all of them – crash over him while they fight making it hard to concentrate.

 

He wants to weep in relief for Severus’s genius.

 

\--

 

It ends like this.

 

Their Lord’s voice is a little regretful when he orders Lucius to bring Severus to him to the Shrieking Shack.

 

Lucius nods and the second he is out of it, he runs.

 

He will bring Severus anywhere, but not there; not to his death.

 

He finds him quickly enough, finds him in a snitch with Greyback and Nott. His hand is forceful when he grabs his upper arm, when he drags him away, out of earshot, when he adds more than one privacy shield around them.

 

I’m prepared, Severus says and tries to break free and Lucius grabs him even harder.

 

No, he says, and he isn’t surprised; sacrificing himself is just another one of the things Severus thinks he deserves, and Lucius should have been upfront about it, years ago, should have dragged him off to a mind healer, should have admitted that he didn’t want to sit at the sidelines, should not have sat at the sidelines when he saw Severus’s need.

 

I love you, Lucius says, very quietly. He’s never said it before. He’s denied them both saying it.

 

Severus laughs, but it’s choked.

 

No, you don’t, he says, so sure – so sure that nobody can ever love him at all that he thinks it’s a fucking joke.

 

Lucius gets very calm in the face of it.

 

I love you, he repeats, even quieter. Only you. Only ever you.

 

Severus stares at him, eyes wide, disbelief clear in his face but underneath it, buried to himself, is hope, hope Severus probably told himself was childish and pointless to begin with.

 

No, you don’t, Severus repeats, unsure now and Lucius steps closer, leans Severus’s head up to kiss him, holds his face in his hands and looks down at him. He’s not so much taller, but he makes himself stand prouder, straight back.

 

From the first time I saw you again, he says, when he brought you to us. I would have hoped for you that he wouldn’t bring you but seeing you – I knew then.

 

Lucius, Severus says very icily, did you take all of that goddamn potion?

 

Lucius laughs, can’t help himself, dips down to kiss him again. He feels euphoric, almost drunk, and it’s so inappropriate for where they are and what they are doing but he can’t help it.

 

I’ve seen all of you, Lucius goes on, and I love you. Despite it all. Or maybe because of it. You’re the philosopher between the two of us, so I let you figure it out.

 

Stop, Severus begs, and Lucius kisses him again, kisses away the one single tear that rolls down Severus’ cheek.

 

You don’t know how – degraded I am, Severus says but Lucius shushes him, draws him in, wraps him into his arms. He knows that time is running out, but he answers nonetheless, because this is the most important thing he has ever said.

 

What was done to you as a child, he says and tightens his hold when Severus jerks in his arms, was not your fault. Not ever. I could not ever think less of you for it.

 

Please, Severus gasps and Lucius breaths him in, just for a moment.

 

You are not a freak of nature, he says, I know you know that. It wasn’t your fault at all.

 

You can’t go to him, he says, I need you not to go to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus doesn’t go.

 

\--

 

The aftermath is messy.

 

Severus can more than prove his – innocence is the wrong word for it. He can prove his true allegiance and he tries hard to keep Lucius out of Azkaban. Lucius doesn’t try so hard, because he knows it’s hopeless until Potter speaks at his trial.

 

It’s worth it, Lucius tells himself in the coming weeks, to have his freedom because of Potter. Whenever Severus smiles at him, unsure and hopeful, he feels it too, however much it irks him to owe the hero of the Wizarding world anything.

 

\--

 

It starts slowly.

 

The first thing Lucius does is hire every cursebreaker known to him to have them work on the Manor.

 

The second is to hand in his divorce.

 

The third is to tell Draco to not spoil his second chance and the fourth is to pack a duffel bag and to apparate to Severus’ cottage.

 

Severus isn’t sure he can ever return to Hogwarts, isn’t sure he should. Instead, they just – do nothing.

 

\--

 

Doing nothing includes not kissing or holding or fucking each other.

 

Lucius tells himself not to overanalyse it; they both need time to heal. Severus is for the first time in 18 years free to just be himself. Lucius has unfortunately been himself politically in the last couple of years and he half-heartedly tells himself to reform himself, to fit with the spirit of the times.

 

He’s a bit too tired to do the work right now, though.

 

\--

 

They are both asked to testify against the others and Lucius doesn’t hesitate to do so, knows that getting his former acquaintances behind bars forever is the surest way to protect himself. To protect Severus.

 

That’s still – or maybe after the memory spell again – the most important thing to him.

 

The backlash is horrible of course. Macnair tries to kill him during a session and the bone crushing curse only doesn’t manage that because it hits him in the shoulder, not the chest.

 

The pain is still barely tolerable even after potions; Lucius releases himself from St. Mungo’s as soon as he can, apparates home and almost passes out before he can open the door to the cottage. Severus is there somehow, helping him to lay down on the bed, stroking back his hair.

 

He wakes sometime in the night, breath crushed out of him, bones regrowing, reshifting, realigning and whimpers with it. A cold compress is pressed over his eyes and forehead, another wet towel is placed over his shoulder. Severus’ warm hand rubs soothingly over his aching belly, slow, long circles. When Lucius throws up Severus cleans him quickly, makes him wash his mouth with something that immediately relieves Lucius’ urge to throw up again.

 

Please hold me, he begs, and Severus complies, lays down beside him and draws his unhurt side against himself, tugs Lucius in against the curve of his body. Lucius’ breath shudders out of him, too fast, too laboured.

 

You’re okay, Severus says calmly, and gets back to stroking Lucius’ belly, humming softly to him until he calms, until Lucius drifts.

 

\--

 

He isn’t sure why they are not having sex. For the first time in forever they are in no immediate danger. They are both private men; Severus never seeks the spotlight and while Lucius has lived in it, he has always kept his private life behind closed doors.

 

Sure, attitudes in the Wizarding world regarding homosexuality have hardly changed, but he’s not proposing coming out to the Prophet, he’s just proposing to go back to the way things used to be.

 

I don’t want that, Severus says calmly. Lucius is suddenly happy to have been taught to suppress his emotions showing from the time he was two; he knows that his face is a mask (and he knows that Severus can see the hurt anyway, can tell from the way Severus lips thin for just a second).

 

You told me you love me, Severus says very quietly. He’s going for self-assured but there’s vulnerability behind it, too, a hesitation, just a tiny bit of fear.

 

That’s what I want, Severus says, even more quietly.

 

That’s not what we’re doing, Lucius asks, honestly confused by it and Severus shakes his head, but doesn’t elaborate.

 

\--

 

Lucius goes with kissing first, kisses him slow and careful, a little harder and deeper when he’s not pushed away.

 

Severus goes with the flow but Lucius can tell it’s not what he wants and so he eases back off, thinks about it for a while.

 

Then he goes with kissing Severus unromantically; a peck on the cheek, a kiss on his wrist, a little nib on his fingertips. He brushes his forehead with his lips, breaths in his neck, licks his ear shell a little.

 

Each time he does it, Severus flushes red, leans a little longer on him, smiles a little brighter.

 

\--

 

Draco writes him a letter full of horrible, justly deserved things a short while later and Lucius reads it, pockets it and then proceeds to think about it forever.

 

He wonders sometimes, what the point is in trying to keep going. He’s tired of it all; his wife and him are fighting an increasingly dirty war over money, his heir hates him, Severus and he are not okay. He’s never going to gain back his influence and worse for him, he doesn’t even feel an urge to try.

 

What he wants is to grab Severus and to take him away for a while, travel the world, go to places where they are not known, where he can lean over and give Severus a kiss out in public without having be scared to be hexed for it.

 

Instead, he’s sitting out behind Severus’ cottage, secretly smoking a cigarette, because he’s heart hasn’t stopped beating too fast since he got that letter and all his good cigars are at the Manor and he doesn’t want to set a foot in Diagon Alley without extra protection and even though he could mail order, Severus reacts as if he’s allergic whenever Lucius wants to get something, anything nicer than average and –

 

Severus’s hand is warm on Lucius’ neck. He sits down next to him after a moment, silently reaching for the cigarette, inhaling deeply two times before giving it back. The casualness is what gets Lucius to hand over the letter; he doesn’t watch Severus read it.

 

That’s mostly deserved, Severus says after a moment and folds the letter back up, puts it away in a pocket of his own robe. You know he’s just writing to illicit a reaction from you for –

 

Lucius cuts him off with a kiss, hard and demanding; he’s almost reminded of that one time at the Manor for the way Severus yields instantly, moans into it. They’re ripping at each other’s clothes a moment later and then Lucius is finally holding Severus’ dick, pumps it up and down while kissing down his throat, across his collarbones. They are only rearranging for a second – Lucius barely manages to whisper the charm to open him up before Severus sinks down on him, whimpers with it. For a moment it’s all good, hot and slick and tight and then Severus stops his moaning, the up and down, shudders and reaches up to wrap his arms around Lucius’ neck before he starts to cry, hiding his face against Lucius.

 

What’s wrong, Lucius whispers to him, wraps his arms around him. He tries to pull out of him but Severus clenches around him, says _no_ in such a ragged voice that Lucius stills again. He’s somehow still hard, when Severus starts moving again in tiny rolls of his hips, when he leans down to kiss Lucius. What’s wrong, Lucius says again and tries to hold him still, but Severus shakes his head, huffs out a teary laugh.

 

We’re still here, he says, you’re still with me.

 

Lucius burrows his face against his neck at that, shivers with the thought of how close they got to not being here, feels guilty for wondering in the last days if it wouldn’t have been better not to make it.    

 

Fuck me, Severus begs, unashamed, and Lucius does.

 

Later, they’re in bed, Lucius’ head on Severus’ chest.

 

Severus’ breathing his slow and steady, but Lucius still feels as if he’s run a marathon.

 

You’re okay, Severus says quietly and Lucius shivers with it, burrows closer, until he’s halfway on top of Severus, until Severus kisses his forehead, lets his lips rest there, until they both fall asleep like that.

 

\--

 

Lucius moves out a few days later. They are too close all of a sudden for being so reserved all these years and the cursebreakers reported that the Manor is as close to its former state as it gets anyway.

 

It’s still not pretty.

 

The damage is excessive. Lucius trails the long hallways quietly, inspects the burnt portraits, the threadbare carpets. A lot of the furniture is broken.

 

At last, he stands still in the big salon. In his childhood and youth, he spent many hours here, being paraded around by his father. He did the same with Draco; this is the place where they introduced him as a baby, where they held their wedding reception a few years earlier, where the Dark Lord killed Charity Burbage. He held Severus here and kissed him, more than once, after a good dinner, with slow music playing. He tortured Dobby and the other house elves in this room, humiliated Greyback, toyed more than once with abductees here in the name of their Lord.

 

Was it worth it, a tiny, treacherous voice in his head whispers while he surveys the damage, while he looks up at the broken chandelier, the blown-up fireplace.

 

He doesn’t know.

 

\--

 

He buys a flat in London, in a stylish townhouse. Muggle area. Wizarding areas are not safe for him; but also, inexplicably, he doesn’t want to see magic at the moment, prefers to walk home on a street that has nothing to do with the World he once thought he would rule.

 

That’s what he wanted to become, for the longest time – Minister of Magic.

 

Severus would scowl and ask if he expected the Dark Lord to share his power and Lucius would have dropped his head and mumbled something, but it’s true; he never thought about how their Lord would rule after they had taken power.

 

He’s not sure he wants to find out, but he’s also still sure that he’s not the kind of man who can look at a Muggle born and believe they are as good as he is.

 

You’re a walking contradiction, Severus once said, and Lucius smiled because back then he liked to be an enigma.

 

\--

 

When Draco finally agrees to see him, Lucius takes his head in his hands, studies him for a long moment.

 

They won’t ever be able to repair all of the damage. Lucius knows that, and he doesn’t want to pretend to not know it, but he also wants to give his child something, anything.

 

He settles on _I’m proud of you,_ holds Draco when he starts crying at that. It’s not enough, but it’s a start.

 

\--

 

Severus doesn’t like the London flat even though he doesn’t say so.

 

That’s another new thing. Severus, usually painfully brutally honest has been closed-up, strategically polite since their Lord’s demise.

 

He’s started saying Riddle and Lucius doesn’t know how to feel about it.

 

The London flat is all Lucius’ taste: old English, dark wood, big portraits, velvet, reds and greens and blues. He gives Severus some of his best whiskey in a glass that cost more than Severus’ monthly Hogwarts wage and watches Severus put it down on a family heirloom a short while later, leaving behind a moist ring that Lucius secretly cleans before it can damage the wood.

 

He should stop with bothering but Lucius likes these things, the luxuries, the unnecessary aesthetics. He’s grown up believing them to be symbols, tokens of power.

 

Why do I feel the need to show them to Severus, though, he thinks and herds Severus to sit on one of the couches.

 

I’m thinking about returning to Hogwarts after all, Severus says after a prolonged moment of silence. There have never been any silences between them before and now there are so many that Lucius wants to – cry, probably.

 

Potter is very insistent, Severus continues. It probably flatters him, but Lucius doesn’t say anything about it. Minerva and Filius, too, Severus continues and Lucius sighs.

 

Then go, he says calmly.

 

What will you do, Severus asks, and he sounds uncharacteristically hesitant, looks at Lucius with a nervous sort of glance.

 

Rot in my wealth, Lucius says and downs Severus’ whiskey.

 

That night, they fuck in Lucius’ new bed. The fire is blazing, and Severus is sweating, whimpering underneath Lucius. They don’t usually fuck like this, for hours, deeply, hard, because Severus can’t stomach it, but apparently that’s something else that has changed now.

 

There, please, just -, Severus begs when Lucius grazes his prostrate on purpose, takes the pressure away a second later.

 

Lucius, please, Severus begs and turns dark, pleading eyes at him. He’s on his stomach for once; Lucius has him bend over his knees, has his wrists secured in his hands on Severus’ back. He’s spread open that way, gets speared on Lucius’ cock deeply. Lucius doesn’t want to brag, but he’s not small and they will soon have to stop, because Severus is already twisting and running from him, whimpering with each new push. Lucius knows he’s completely overstimulated, will probably not come from his cock tonight, but he still keeps going, until Severus bucks in earnest fifteen minutes later.

 

I can’t keep going, he says, and Lucius stills his hips and withdraws, allows Severus to lay flat down on the bed, before laying down on top of him.

 

You’re crushing me, Severus says, but it doesn’t sound very accusatory, so Lucius keeps kissing across his shoulder blades, nuzzles against his neck. They’re both still hard when Severus turns around, when they face each, when Lucius reaches out to slowly stroke him.

 

My darling, Lucius says very deliberately after a moment, watches Severus groan and throw back his head in response.

 

Stop that, Severus says, I am not a blushing maiden.

 

Lucius doesn’t comment on it, even though he sees the deepening blush, even though he can tell that Severus is deeply turned on. He twists his hand just so before sliding down and taking Severus in his mouth.

 

It doesn’t take long from there.

 

Later, they are laying side by side not touching. I don’t know how to do this, Lucius says after a while, turns his head, catches and holds Severus’ eyes, I need your help doing it.

 

Severus looks at him for a moment, before looking away. Lucius has already seen the longing, but he doesn’t comment on it.

 

If we try it, it must be a decision from you too, Lucius says very quietly, you must be willing to work on it, too. Otherwise it’s just – the same old thing, darling.

 

Stop saying that, Severus says. All hair on his arms is standing up and Lucius reaches out carefully, holds his nape, slowly guides him over and down until he’s pressed against the juncture of Lucius’ shoulder and neck.

 

Darling, he repeats and Severus keens, grabs on to him harder.

 

Try it with me, Lucius whispers and Severus nods, says okay and keeps holding on to him.

 

\--

 

Love, for Severus is not flowers and gifts and promises and rings. It goes deeper than that; it’s something Lucius hasn’t learnt. He has nothing to guide him. The marriage of his parents was a horrible shit show from start to finish. His own marriage was nothing but a failure. He’s never seen anyone in love, never been expected to give his love fully.

 

He knows he has not completely failed in it in the last years or Severus wouldn’t still be trying to find a way to make it work. He doesn’t want to disappoint him – is terrified of disappointing him – but he also doubts he can be what Severus needs.

 

He turns to books and after a long hesitation to Muggle movies. The first time in a movie theatre, he’s sure he’ll die when the screen comes to life.

 

He’s a little worried he’s going mad when he starts liking the cinema.

 

\--

 

He starts looking for a house for them.

 

The cottage is nice, but Lucius knows it’s Dumbledore’s, knows that Severus isn’t a hundred percent comfortable in it even though Severus inherited it. The space doesn’t afford Severus a room to brew; the floo hasn’t been working well; the lighting isn’t very good for reading.

 

He has an idea of what Severus would like and Lucius takes his time, drives his real estate manager crazy with his requests. He’s not in a hurry.

 

Severus takes up teaching again, a year after the battle. He’s McGonagall’s deputy and Lucius smiles at the picture of the two of them in the Prophet, McGonagall’s proud tilt of the head, Severus’ scowling face.

 

They barely see each other, barely talk, but it’s for the best, allows Lucius time to think, time to scheme, time to plan.

 

\--

 

There used to be a million things he forbade himself from doing back during the wars, in the interwar years. He’s never tangled their fingers in public, never held Severus close and just breathed him in, never woke him up with coffee in bed, never washed his hair for him.

 

He tries to remember them all, notes them down.

 

He never wrote Severus letters; it’s the first thing he changes.

 

He smiles to himself when Severus only answers after the third, a short paragraph of how he’s doing. It’s clearly wary and guarded, but it’s at least a response.

 

\--

 

You’re scaring me, Severus will say more than once in the coming months. He says it every time Lucius departs from the path of how things were and tries to push them to the way he wants things to be now.

 

Severus is reluctant, Severus is hesitant, Severus is angsty.

 

I’m not sure I can take the risk, he says, and Lucius simply shields him a bit more from the rain that’s falling down on them. Severus needed to get out to collect some wildflowers – Lucius wasn’t really listening, and the weather is downright awful but not as awful as Severus’ wide eyes.

 

The risk to not being able to live without you, Severus says, I am not sure – what will I do if you leave me?

 

I haven’t in over 20 years, Lucius says.

 

There are things I haven’t told you, Severus whispers and Lucius leans forward until their foreheads are touching, until Severus’s eyes are so close that Lucius can see the tiny fleck of brown in his right iris.

 

Nothing you tell me will change how I think about you, Lucius says and kisses him before turning away.

 

\--

 

He tells Lucius about it one morning, almost two years after the battle, just after coffee.

 

It was my father, he says and then his lower lip trembles and Lucius slides to his knees in front of him, takes his hands in his.

 

You don’t have to tell me, Lucius says and means it, but Severus shakes his head and tells him anyway.

 

It was not your fault, Lucius says.

 

Severus shudders at that, slides down from his chair and on Lucius’ lap, buries his face against him. He doesn’t cry, doesn’t shudder, but his hands stay fisted in Lucius’ robes for a long time.

 

\--

 

In the weeks after telling Lucius, Severus makes himself as sparse as possible, doesn’t answer any owls, doesn’t invite Lucius to his quarters at Hogwarts, doesn’t show up at the cottage.

 

Lucius finds the perfect house for them in those weeks and he buys it, maybe just to spite Severus in case they don’t make it through; it will be a spectacular farewell gift.

 

He contemplates more than once to take the initiative, but something tells him to wait Severus out, to be unwaveringly, steadfastly ready for whenever Severus returns to him.

 

There you are, he says, when Severus finally does.

 

I don’t understand, Severus will say, how you can still – want to be with me. I’m degraded, I’m –

 

You’re you, Lucius interrupts, you survived. You survived your father and our Lord and Dumbledore, and I want you just the way you are.

 

There’s so much I can’t give you, Severus says, and his eyes are pained, I will never be fully able to – give myself to you. I will never not be scared of – what we’re doing in bed, even though I like it, even though –

 

I don’t have a problem with it, Lucius says, I never had a problem with it. Why do you think any of that should change now?

 

Severus deflates at that, shoulders caving in and forward. He rubs a hand roughly over his face, before looking at Lucius.

 

Minerva tells me to say goodbye to all of my past, he says, and that’s the Severus Lucius knows – painfully direct, without regard to what it does to Lucius.

 

She says, I’m a new man, Severus continues, that I can – change things if I make it very clear that I am not – associated with any of you any longer. Potter agrees.

 

Relationship advice from a centenarian and a boy as old as Draco, Lucius says and fights down the itching that wants him to pick up his wand and make Severus pay for what he does to his heart, isn’t that a little beneath you.

 

You’ve given me – so much, Severus says and Lucius laughs, harshly, laughs the way he used to years back, when all he knew was hate and fear and anger. He can retreat back into it, maybe become a little Dark Lord in his own right. To go out in a blaze of magic when they take him out – is there a more poetic way to go?

 

Shut up, Severus, Lucius says. He knows that Severus knows the tone, the voice; can see how Severus guards himself back up. He’s gripping his wand in his pocket; Lucius doesn’t have to look down to know it.

 

It’s not like you made an effort after the war, Severus says. Lucius isn’t sure why he tries to justify it, why he doesn’t simply leave.

 

I didn’t try with you, Lucius states, as drily as he can, and Severus shakes his head.

 

That’s not what I mean, he says, you didn’t make an effort to reform what you’re believing in, you are still – you still say mudblood, you still muse on the what ifs of a rule of Riddle. That’s not something I can just – oversee.

 

Then don’t, Lucius says and turns around; there’s quite nothing than a stiff Whiskey at lunchtime on a Wednesday.

 

I’ve tried to – Severus starts to say and suddenly it’s all back, the rage that has been such a part of Lucius for so long. With a roar, he throws the bottle at Severus, who flicks it away with a twist of his wand. For a moment, they are both suspended and then Lucius’s wand is in his hand and Severus’s eyes are like two dark holes and then Severus apparates away.

 

\--

 

Lucius follows his career in the newspapers after that. There’s not much; Severus finds a cure for this and that, Severus develops a potion for this and that, Severus continues to teach, Severus might write a book on his time as a spy, Severus and Potter on a Ministry event, Severus and Granger in a heated discussion on the same event. Severus takes on Draco as apprentice and Lucius simply stops answering Draco’s letters.

 

He’s drunk most of the time and doesn’t care.

 

\--

 

Lucius goes travelling after Draco tries to disable the blocked floo to his London flat. 

 

He goes to all kinds of places where wild magic still flows. He gazes at the sun rising over the highest mountain ranges in the world, sees the sun settling over the edge of the oceans.

 

He witnesses Muggle ingenuity, creativity, durability, resistance in those faraway places, learns how Muggles carved out a way of existence that still seems to be so pitiful to Lucius in its non-imaginative way, in how it’s only focused on surviving, not on thriving, but he can start to appreciate it for the effort it is, sees the little moments of joy and laughter. To know a place and be a part of it, to sit down each day with family and be loved – it has more value than Lucius ever thought. 

 

\--

 

He wishes he wasn’t so heartbroken over losing Severus, wouldn’t miss him all the goddamn time.

 

He wishes they had never kissed, because he would surely not have survived the war without Severus and then he – could be free of all that terrible, deep longing, all that desperate craving that keeps him up at night, wherever he is.

 

In the end, the renum obliviscature seems like a good idea.

 

This time, he keeps not a single memory of either Draco or Severus.

 

\--

 

A man sits down next to Lucius in Venice.

 

Lucius can’t remember how long he’s been here. There are days now when he’s not even sure that that is his name – Lucius. He has a memory of someone whispering that name in his ear; he wrote it down on a scrap of paper to not forget it.

 

Lucius can’t remember where he came from. He can’t remember where he’s been. He tried drowning himself when he first realized that he didn’t know himself, but his body kept pushing itself out of the water, kept breathing air, somehow kept itself alive no matter how fare out he swum.

 

He’s not sure he can die and he’s somehow scared now to find out.

 

The man looks at Lucius for a long time and Lucius looks back at him without blinking once. He doesn’t have much; he used to carry a stick that he threw out; he used to carry a pouch with shiny coins that bought him nothing wherever he went. Still, sometimes men will proposition him and sometimes he goes, because why should he not enjoy a little human warmth in exchange for a bed and a meal for the night?

 

What did you do to yourself this time, the man says, I swear to Merlin I will kill you.

 

Lucius laughs. He probably shouldn’t. The man’s a lunatic, very likely dangerous and yet it’s funny, somewhat hilarious for him to just come up and announce his sinister motives to the man he plans to end.

 

Try it, Lucius says, I have it on good authority I can’t be killed.

 

The man’s eyes narrow at that and something twists in Lucius’s chest before it fizzles back out.

 

Let us get you some coffee, the man says, and you tell me all about how Death isn’t interested in you.

 

Lucius rolls his shoulders, shrugs. He’s bigger and taller and he’s sinewy strong. The man is a bit younger, in good health but he’s still reasonably sure he can take him and so he follows him.

 

\--

 

Two weeks later, the man (my name is Severus, he says, and Lucius laughs at the name, stops it when the man comes closer and brushes his wrist with his fingers. It will feel familiar again soon enough, the man says, and Lucius will shiver at the words) will take out a stick and light a fire with just a little twitch.

 

You know what I’m doing, the man will say, you just have to remember. You must want to remember. My potion does not work as well this time and I need you to want to remember.

 

Remember what, Lucius will say, and the man will smile, but his eyes will be sad.

 

Us, he will say, me.

 

\--

 

Severus, Lucius will say three months later. He’s pleading but it’s – so hot and so good and he needs release.

 

Severus will shift and carefully push into him again, will slowly stroke into him with deep, long thrusts.

 

I love you, he will say and lean forward and kiss Lucius, will take him in his hand and bring them off perfectly timed.

 

The significance will be lost on Lucius at that time, but he will still cling to Severus’s strong back, his arms, will still allow himself to be cradled close afterwards, will allow Severus to clean him with a gently tingling spell before slipping into sleep.

 

\--

 

I’m not scared any more, Severus will say, and Lucius will huff, smooths the paper along the edge of the paper.

 

I am sorry it took me so long, Severus will say very quietly, and something deep and aching will rip open in Lucius’s chest.

 

But I’m scared now, Lucius will say, I’m scared I remember, and you won’t – be here after I do. I feel so scared thinking about how it might change when all I want is how it’s now.

 

I promise you, Severus will whisper, that I will not leave you. I changed. I’m ready now. I should have been ready earlier, but now I promise I am. I never promise lightly. You would now, if you would stop keeping yourself from remembering.

 

Say it again, Lucius will say, and hide his face against Severus’ neck.

 

Severus will gently take his face in his hands, lift it up, study his eyes for a moment. I love you, he will say; he always knows what Lucius is thinking.

 

\--

 

I can’t believe you only fucked me when I couldn’t remember you, Lucius complains a few months after that.

 

He also can’t believe he threw his goddamn wand out (he can’t even believe that he picked up the habit to say goddamn from Severus) thinking it was a _stick._

It’s called healing, Severus will say very acidly, you should try it sometime.

 

You should do it again, Lucius says, ignoring him, unless you somehow got off precisely because I couldn’t remember and –

 

I got off because I knew it was important to you, Severus says, and his sombre tone puts an instant stop on their bickering, and so I made sure to address the root causes. To be ready to allow myself to – love you if we ever tried it again.

 

Pretty optimistic for a goddamn pessimist, Lucius says and stalks over to the kitchen, crowds Severus against the sink and kisses him.

 

Hard to say the word isn’t it, Lucius whispers in Severus’s ear after a moment and Severus smiles against his cheek, turns his head and burrows against Lucius’s hair (he wanted to cut it off in Vienna and it grew back overnight, and Severus can never know).

 

No, Severus says, quietly confident in a way he’s never been before. I told you I’m ready. And I love you.

 

Shut up and fuck me, Lucius says, and Severus will not call out the moisture in his eyes, the way he clings a little harder, how his heart beats a little faster.

 

Darling, Lucius will say afterwards, and Severus will roll his eyes and say, I’m not a blushing maiden and Lucius will laugh.


End file.
